Rhapsody
by Emerald Skies
Summary: Pale hands that matched the whitewashed walls. The clock, the dice and the chocolate seemed to be in perfect harmony. Oneshot.


**A/N:**Yayyy! Kind-of-not-really first fic, but my others paled in comparison to most, so I baleeted them until my writing skills got better. Wit the rapidly increasing standard for Death Note fanfics...it's hard to keep up. Review, please...it only takes a minute! Tell me if you likey-like.

Disclaimer: Matt would be the victor if I'd owned Death Note...which I obviously **do not**.

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Tick-tock. Click clack..

The rhythmic ticking and tocking of the clock on the pale, whitewashed wall perfectly matched the rapid click-clacking of dice being stacked by slender hands, perhaps more white than the wall itself. No other sounds permeated the room save for the gentle rhythm which had been made by the boy on the floor and the clock on the wall.

It never occurred to the owner of those hands that there could be another there, watching silently while hiding behind blonde hair and a psychology textbook. Curled up in a comfy red chair, the blue eyes were content to watch the goings on of the boy and his ice….but he would never let anyone else know that.

Tick tock. Click clack.

If Matt were to find out, the owner of the blue eyes would be able to make a fast, maybe feeble excuse, something like 'I might have learned his weakness, to exploit it!' or something moderately to that effect…but no-one was around, and he wasn't even sure if the boy knew of his presence—then again, he knew basically everything else.

Tick tock. Click clack. Snap.

The echo of chocolate breaking was audible for just a second throughout the dingy room, before the click clacking and tick tocking resumed, still perfectly in time with the other.

The pale hands continued their mission, almost robotic, looking for more dice so as not to break the rhythm.

Tick tock. Click clack. Snap.

This time, the eyes dared to deviate from their task further, and were surprised to meet dark, empty obsidian ones, staring from behind locks of stark white. Quickly looking away, the owner of the blue eyes desperately attempted –in vain- to continue his task of reading the textbook.

Tick tock…snap.

Startled almost to the point of jumping from the plush chair, surprised the odd rhapsody had been broken, Mello looked up from his book once more, only to find a pale, childish face peering back at him.

"N…N…Near, what are you doing?" The blonde shifted his bangs to create a more dynamic glaring effect, albeit not surprised to notice it had gone unnoticed by the other. Squirming uncomfortable under the pale boy's steady gaze, the blue eyes darted about, looking for a way to escape…the only way, however, was through…Near.

"Mello." He had this way of saying people's names as a statement rather than a greeting. "Why have you not attempted my murder yet?"

The simple, blunt question caught the other youth off guard...it wasn't unusual for Near to be blunt to the point of insult, but the blonde had had enough.

"Do I come across as violent to you?!"

A smirk played at the corners of the other's lips. He tilted his head to the side, ad almost whispered, "I suppose so."

Remaining semi-stoic to some degree was, at this point, impossible for Mello. He rose slowly, perhaps menacingly, from his chair, grabbed the other's white locks, and rammed him against the wall...violently.

"Violent enough for you?!" The blonde was inches from the othr's face, sneering.

Near smiled as if he wasn't in pain at all from his hair being pulled as he was dangled a few inches from the floor, or rammed against a wall. "Yes." He looked away.

"Nrgh!" The other youth spat, throwing the pale boy to the ground. He seemed frail, delicate, and still as unemotional as ever. "Look at me!"

Near complied, looking at the blonde.

Mello couldn't help but shiver...to see him sprawled on the ground, unable to do anything, with those haunting black eyes. It was a horrible feeling...like there was no mind behind those eyes, just an analytical machine which could only comprehend facts, not feelings.

Something clicked, and he recalled the voice of his best friend from the dismal orphanage...Matt.

_'Dude...maybe if you showed the kid an ounce of kindness, he might not look so damn apathetic all the time!' The redhead scowled up from Final Fantasy X. (He was in the process of attempting to beat the...third? form of Seymour.)_

_'Yeah. Right.' The blonde roled his eyes, and got up to leave._

_(An ounce of kindness?) _

"Hey...here...Near." The boy held out a small, but sizable piece of his beloved chocolate, and the pale boy looked up from his position on the floor.

"Mello...thank you." Taking the chocolate, the pale youth chewed it slowly, and retook the other's hand. Yawning (it was getting dark, after all.) his eyelids drooped, and all of a sudden Mello felt a weight on his chest, and looked down to see none other than Near...his rival, his enemy...

Unable to bring himself to move the other boy, the blonde just laid down, the other's head still upon his chest. Feeling sleepy himself, ice blue eyes closed, the last thing he saw was stark white locks and pale hands.

"_Maybe, he's not so bad_..." Mello whispered and rubbed his eyes before drifting off to sleep.

The pale boy, seemingly in slumber, smiled.

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**A/N:** Review. Please.

No, I won't force you...pwetty please?

And tell me i'm not horrendous at this. :)


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